There
are still days where
I’m scared of my own shadow;
days where I go searching for
you at the bottom
of a bottle of whiskey.
There are still days where
my voice quivers,
and my hands shake,
and all I think about is
shredding my skin
to pieces.
Those days happen more
often than not;
but no matter what,
I always make it to the
next one.
(DS)
